As we got into the car, I said, “Guys, I really appreciate how you weren’t fighting over who would kick the snow off the tires. You were giving each other chances.”

They looked at me as if I had degraded them.

“Mommy, why would we fight? That’s something ’emenies’ would do. And we’re not ’emenies.’ Why would you ever think that?”

(Why would I? Why would I ever, ever think that?)

“Oh, you’re not? Well, that’s great to hear. Can you tell me what you are?”

They look at each other and think. I’m fishing for something to validate my years of investing in their friendship, both in the past and in the years to come. Something like, Mommy, we are brothers in blood and in spirit and we are forever thankful you had two children and gave each of us a built-in best friend. You know. Something easy like that.

“We are wolves.”

“Wolves?” Wolves?

“Yes. Wolves are in a pack, and they always stick together. A wolf never leaves the other wolves in his pack. That’s like us.”